


The Fighter

by HisPrettyUniverse



Series: The Fighter, the King, and the Thrones Before Them [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: During The Hobbit, LOTR, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Movie 1: The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Movie 2: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, Movie 3: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Retelling of The Hobbit, The Hobbit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 23:23:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisPrettyUniverse/pseuds/HisPrettyUniverse
Summary: As a warrior Rydyns was a powerful fighter, no one could control him not even his homeland. He was brave, strong and a good captain of the guard. A proud young Dalbic with no fear.But as a slave? He was weak, fragile and guilty, he could barely look anyone in the eyes.What will he become now that he has been set free?The one he was born to be, or the one he was beaten to be?The company of Thorin Oakensheild meet a stranger on the long road to the Lonely Mountain and sets in motion circumstances that can no longer be ignored.





	The Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company wanders through the wilderness and finds a town amidst the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I haven't been active on this site for a while and thought about working on this stuff again. So here I am! I hope you enjoy!

They’d been traveling for a fortnight.

Thorin Oakenshield and his company of twelve dwarves-Not counting himself-, a hobbit, and a wizard were already tired of the beds of ground, the already stale food and the lack of good weather. They were nearly dead on their rears the saddles were so hard. Their supply was already almost out and their moods dampened with the rain. It was a far cry from the loud cheers and filling food in the Hobbit’s home in what felt like ages ago.  
Even their pipes did them little cheer as their adventure to take back Erebor only just begun. Though they had their eyes set on their homeland and the piles of gold within they seldom sang or cheered about it. The dwarves knew this would be a hard journey, as the Lonely Mountain was almost a world away, but they couldn’t help but feel dreadfully tired and wished to just magically appear at the foot of the mighty mountain that was so far ahead of them.

Bilbo Baggins -a cheerful but proper Hobbit-, was extremely uncomfortable and felt very out of place sitting on a bumbling pony in the downpour on a sloppy road. The Hobbit may have been adventurous as a youngling, but he was older now, he was used to certain things, like a proper place to relieve himself. He was just as cranky and grumpy as the dwarves, he would have thought to bring a cloak along but he’d run out the door quite unexpectedly and had left it on one of the pegs near the entrance, alongside his handkerchief. No, he was even grimmer than the stone-faced company he found himself in. He was soaking wet, red coat now a wine colour and his dirty blond hair no longer curly and constantly dripping water in his eyes, he was half-starved and stewing in his filth. This was not the first time he had the inkling of regret for leaving the Shire, it wouldn’t be the last either.

“Mister Gandalf!” A white-haired dwarf, Dori, called, “Can’t you do something about this deluge?”

All the dwarves lifted their heads hoping for a yes, but were sadly disappointed when the old wizard replied, “It will continue to rain until the rain is done, you best look for another wizard if you wish to change the weathers the world.”

The soaked hobbit raised his head, wiping at the water in his eyes, “Are there?”

“What?”

“Are there other wizards?”

The old grey wizard thoughtfully sighed as he explained, “There are five in fact. Our leader; Saruman the white, then there are the two blues…-You know, I’ve quite forgotten their names- and then there's Radagast, the brown.”

“Is he a great wizard,” The Hobbit wondered aloud, “Or is he more like you?”

Gandalf huffed in annoyance and grumbled, “I think he’s a great wizard, though he prefers the company of animals to people...”

The dwarves lost interest as Gandalf and their burglar talked about magic and wizards. They cared not for magic and wizardry, they had a preference for the bolder, more physically enduring ways of weaponry. The company’s minds turned to the muddy road ahead and controlling their ponies in the gruelling terrain.

Thorin Oakenshield was leading the company through the horrible weather, his mind on getting somewhere dry and making sure to avoid all the deep mud threatening to sink his pony. His face austere under his dark blue hood he let himself wonder in his head, thinking of why he’d let a vulnerable hobbit become his burglar and why he left Gandalf to choose the fourteenth member. He looked over his shoulder at his company, noting the distress and grumbles of annoyance among his dwarves.

‘ _Somewhere dry_ ’ he thought, ‘ _There has to someplace dry around here_ ’

His pony gave a small whine of shock as it tripped in the mud and he jolted forward, the thought got louder in his head as the brown pony steadied itself and walked slower, being more cautious of its steps.

“Can we camp soon, Thorin?” Called another dwarf, “This rain has made us all weary and grim!”

“We keep moving until we find a city or a dry place,” ordered the future king.

‘ _And right as we find it, I shall lay near a fire and sleep until I wake at the mountain’s gates!_ ’ He complained, his bones ached and his mood was sour like his clothes smelled.

“Thorin, up ahead!” called Fíli, his eldest nephew, from atop the muddy pony he rode. He had stood upright on top of the saddle, wobbling with sure feet as he sighted ahead of the small caravan troop.

The black, silver-streaked haired king looked up, peering through the mist and saw his prayers of a dry place was answered as a small dark barricade slowly became clearer. The clouded shelter in the distance brought a small smile in relief. ‘ _Thank, Durin!_ ’ He cheered inwardly.

“Thank Mahal!” The other dwarves groaned in relief at the sight of proper shelter and the promise of warm food.

The company immediately cheered up, knowing a soft bed was just within their reach, talking once more in loud voices about the good ale of small-town businesses and sang unseemly songs of barmaids atop counters. Rushing for the entrance to the town their rides sped up and within an additional twenty minutes, they were smacking their palms on the gates to get in.

“Who goes there?” An old man croaks through a small slot in the large wood barricade.

“We seek shelter from the poor weather!” Answers the grey wearing wizard.

The old guard mumbled to himself about schedules and closing times then proceeds to let them through, opening the gates at an agonizing pace for the company.

The town was a fair size, mostly small homes and garden patches filled the barricaded area. It had several trade buildings and shops, stands that were currently vacated and-much to the dwarves relief-, an Inn. ‘Green Mountain Inn’ was its name, owned by a fine-haired, Master Barlan who welcomed the weary adventurers in with a cheerful smile almost entirely hidden by his curly beard.

“Good food, best beers and the softest beds we have!” He calls to the large group, leading them towards a table.

Realizing the table wouldn’t hold all of the tired, hungry travellers he pushed two more tables and gathered more chairs around, making as much room as he could. He even went as far as to move his regulars out of stools for the dwarves, making the younger farmers grumble and stand nursing their drinks and meals in their tan worn hands.

Sinking into their mismatched seats, the dwarves sighed in pleasure as the barmaid and the grand bearded human brought large pints of ale to the irregular customers.

“You be staying the night?” The Innkeeper passing the drinks around.

“Aye, five rooms should do!” Gandalf nods, claiming three dwarves to each room.

The Innkeeper nods in agreement and went back to the bar, cheering with the townsfolk as they drank away the sorrows of rain. There stood many a man, mostly shopkeepers and farmers drinking and talking with each other about the days gathers and complaining of the crops and gardens. Others were travellers, hunters and small caravans riders making their way past on the main roads, also seeking relief from the rain.

One patron at the bar caught the eye of Thorin Oakenshield as he cast a wandering eye around the wildly decorated inn. (You see, the decorations were quite odd, unlike the others he’d been to, this one had small trinkets covering the walls, drawings done by small children and the few passing talented scribes, as well as flowers, herbs and leaves preserved on the wall, instead of the more traditional mounted animal heads, small trinkets from travellers and more professional portraits if it was a higher status.)

The man the leader had noticed wasn't a man at all in fact, though it took a good long stare before it was apparent but, Thorin could still not place the humanoid’s race. The male was shorter than the men in the room (he could almost be mistaken for a younger man but his greying hair unveiled him to be far older) but did not have the stoutness to be a Dwarf. He wasn’t as fair-skinned as an Elf though his pointed ears told a different more exotic tale, the ears were long, stretching to the back of his head before gently curving up. He was an unfamiliar sight to the well-travelled dwarf. Thorin had been all across middle earth in the past decades looking for a home for his people and looking for his father, he’d never seen whatever this stranger was before. It sent a small tremor of suspicion down his spine.

The strange ‘man’ by the door had wild, softly greying, blond hair and was nursing a drink when another patron stomped over to him and began to talk animatedly. This newcomer was human, pink-faced with a large nose hooked like a bird and a large body to accompany it. He said something to the blond and shook his fingers accusingly at Thorin and his company.

The humanoid's eyes met Thorin's' and (from what Thorin could tell), sent an apologetic small grimace through a thick trim of blond beard. The adventurer's eyes narrowed in confusion as the not-man started at the words of his companion. Thorin couldn't hear over the crowd of townsfolk but it was obvious it was about the company in the inn.

After an hour of feasting on the greatly welcomed hot food the rain that had been slowly stopping as they ate cleared up. The patrons left with the rain, going home to their families. But when Thorin stole a glance to the door, the angry-looking man and the humanoid were still there. The angry one's curses grew louder as the crowd dwindled and the only noise came from the small kitchen near the dwarven troop and the dwarves themselves. Though he couldn't hear most of the words the man was saying due to the roar his brethren, he caught the gist of the cursing coming from the pink man.

"...Dwarves will ruin my reputation they will."

The stranger was watching the dwarves with dull, boredom as the human continued with his rant. Thorin turned back to notice the Hobbit had overheard the man as well, anxiously fingering his buttons and pulling at the threads. He huffed and turned back to his drink and friends. Ignoring the other patrons, he did not notice when they leave a couple of minutes later, the pink man drunkenly stumbling through the door and the stranger moving to help him.

Thorin laid in the soft bed without sleep, he was tired but his mind raced for a long while afterward. Normally he would be thinking of the path ahead, getting his home back but with Fili and Kili sleeping beside him, his mind was drawn to the greying blond stranger and his angry, bald friend. The stranger was a concerning sight, Thorin didn’t want to have any more difficulties with people in this town that they’ve already started. The presence of an unknown race made him anxious, suspicious of the town they’ve stayed in. As he slowly fell asleep he sent a silent prayer to Mahal, hoping to not cause trouble in this curious town.


End file.
